Come and Get It
by Chandac
Summary: Jon Snow calls Arya Stark beautiful for the first time


Arya and Nymeria found Jon and Ghost at the window at the covered bridge overlooking the whole yard.

Jon was seated on the sill, one leg drawn up languidly to his chin. He was watching all of the action down below, that he didn't notice Arya and Nymeria approach. Ghost moved to meet them.

Jon gave Arya a curious look. "Shouldn't you be working on your stitches, little sister?"

Arya made a face at him "I wanted to see them fight."

He smiled. "Come here, then."

Arya climbed up on the window and sat beside him, watching as the boys landed blows on one another.

"You should be down there in the yard!" she said to Jon. "You're far better than them all."

Jon gave her a half smile. "Bastards are not allowed to damage young princes," he said. "Any bruises they take in the practice yard must come from trueborn swords."

Arya watched as Bran pummeled plump Prince Tommen into the ground.

"I could do just as good as Bran," she said. "He's only eleven. I'm thirteen."

Jon looked her over with all his eighteen-year-old wisdom. "You're too skinny," he said. He took her arm to feel her muscle and sighed. "I doubt you could even lift a sword, let alone swing one, little sister."

Arya yanked her arm back from him and glared at him.

Jon reached out to muss her hair but she moved her head away from his hands.

"I did not mean any offense, little sister," Jon offered.

Arya turned around quickly, with her back facing him as she fought back tears. She couldn't hold the tears in and started to sniffle.

"Little sister?...Why are you crying?" Jon asked bewildered. He moved in front of her and brushed her hair away from her face, to look into her eyes.

"I tried to do needlework and my stitches came out crooked. And I tried to make them look nice and pretty…like Sansa's, but they were ugly, and Septa Mordane scolded me. And worst of all, Sansa and Jeyne laughed at them in front of Princess Myrcella. Sansa called me Arya Horseface and everyone started neighing at me." Arya said in between hiccups. "And I came here, for I know I could do good down there. I practice alone at night, I'm not lying, ask father. He's seen me and clapped for me. He knows I'm not good at needle work, but I can do somethings," she said. sobbing.

Jon held Arya by her arms. "Little sister, you cannot listen to Sansa and Jeyne. You are so so beautiful."

Arya's lip quivered and she wriggled out of Jon's arms, but he grabbed her firmly.

"Jon," she protested.

"Arya, look at me," Jon commanded, suddenly his voice sounded like a man grown's. He was not pleased.

She obeyed.

"You are the prettiest girl that I have ever seen. Do you hear me?" Jon growled. "There are many things I cannot share with you…the way the other boys talk of you. A highborn girl should not hear those kinds of things, but believe me, little sister. I have already spent enough time straying boys away from you."

Arya wiped her face dry.

"I'll never be as pretty as Sansa. They put me with plump Prince Tommen and Sansa with handsome Prince Joffrey. You're just lying to make me feel better, Jon," she whispered.

Jon shook his head.

"I would never lie to you, my honor would never allow me to. No, you will never be as pretty as Sansa." Arya's face looked heartbroken and her eyes began to water again.

Jon cupped her face in his hands. "Listen to me, Arya. Sansa is a comely lady, but that is all. You, on the other hand, are far more beautiful than Sansa will ever be….god's Arya, what your face makes me do…"

He pulled away from her abruptly. "I cannot say these kinds of things to you, Arya."

Arya stepped closer to him uncertainly. Jon was breathing sharply.

"Jon?"

"You are my sister. You are highborn. You will be wed to some high lord some day and have his sons. He can sings songs to you of your beauty then," he said, angrily.

"I don't want to marry some high lord," Arya said, calmly.

Jon scoffed. "You will. Father will arrange your betrothal in a couple of years and you will leave Winterfell and me."

Arya shook her head in disagreement. "I won't. I'm going to marry you."

Jon's face paled and he stepped back. "You jest, Arya. You don't know what you speak of. I'm your father's bastard son, your half-brother."

It was Arya's turn to grab his arm.

"Look at me, Jon," she ordered.

He obeyed.

Arya leaned on her toes and cupped her small hands around his face.

"You are the only boy who has ever called me pretty. Do you think that I haven't noticed you as well, brother? I am not going to marry a high lord and have his sons. I am going to marry you and no one will ever be able to take me away from you, ever."

Jon painfully put her hands down from his face and held her hands, caressing them. "No one would ever accept this, Arya. I could never do this to you. You cannot marry a bastard."

She smiled at him and jumped into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I don't care," she whispered in his ears. "I am your's. I have always been your's. And now it is your job to come and claim what's your's."

She quickly kissed him on his cheek before he could protest and ran away from him, Nymeria chasing her on her feet.

Arya stopped for a brief second though.

"Jon?" she called out to her brother, who looked shocked beyond words.

Jon stared at her like she was a ghost from the crypts at Winterfell.

"I'll leave the door open in my room tonight. Nymeria will stand guard for me. Do try your best to not stall, big brother."

And with that, Arya dashed away.


End file.
